


If This is to End in Fire

by WarriorWastingTime



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorWastingTime/pseuds/WarriorWastingTime
Summary: Korra is forced to fight to the death in the arena for Kuvira's entertainment. Stricken by grief and slowly losing herself, Korra clings to the only light in her life: a woman from Kuvira's harem.





	If This is to End in Fire

**Author's Note:**

> One shot time. Just something that was on my mind. All characters are over 18.

I am not myself these days. If I close my eyes, let the rushing of blood in my ears grow loud enough to drown out the roar of the crowd, I can feel myself slipping away. Every day grows increasingly more difficult to reconcile my survival with my success in the arena. Those two concepts seem to be in antithesis. It is as if my opponents are taking pieces of me to their graves and the more I win the more I surely lose.

When I was first captured I hadn’t needed to scavenge for hope, for hope had been in abundance. I was Korra of the Southern Water Tribe after all. Now I don’t really know what that means. It hadn’t been so complicated then. Killing was unpleasant, but I knew if I kept moving forward I could leave those ghosts in the past. Only I soon found myself stuck, trapped in a spider’s web of accountability for the crimes of my new existence. Perhaps it is true what they say, that no one really escapes the arena with their life.

The man who stands before me is sure to be a favorite amongst the throngs of nobility above. He is a hulking mass of seething hatred with a glint of sadistic excitement in his eye. He believes, as they all must, that he will be the one to put me down. Maybe he will be, I haven’t decided yet.

I’m not sure if this is better. To be slain by a man who might actually enjoy it as opposed to some child who would be haunted by my visage to the day he died. To be killed for sport rather than to kill for a future I cannot envision anymore. Perhaps it is time I step aside and let someone else take my throne.

I must look every bit as sickly as I feel, for he lunges without abandon. I sidestep and draw my sword from its sheath. He holds his mace high over his right shoulder, poised to bring it crashing down upon me. I start to circle absentmindedly and he follows my lead without really questioning why.

What makes one life more valuable than another? This question has been plaguing me relentlessly for many moons. I used to believe myself worthy of living simply because I knew in my heart I was a good person. After slaying 27 tortured souls in this pit I can no longer claim that to be true. The only saving grace I can think of is that maybe there is no right to life, and that if one wants to live they must take lives as they see fit. But if that is any justification to me then I am not as good a woman as I once believed and perhaps I do deserve to die.

He shakes himself from his stupor with an angry growl. I’ve bid myself a little time and I’ve worn him down a bit. He has the brains to sense that his tactic should be to end the fight before he runs out of energy. I could dodge him until the sun slides behind the coliseum walls and still have the strength to sever his head from his stumpy neck. He ought to know that much at least.

As he barrels forward I find her eyes amidst the crowd. Kuvira, dressed in full military garb. The expression she wears is always very nearly the same. I imagine those closest to her believe her to be near emotionless, but I know better. I study her face often enough. There is more to her than her cold expression would betray.

I move from his path ages before I need to. His head tracks me as I push off to my left but his mace is too heavy to change direction. I sense uncertainty in him for the first time as he watches me with both hands clenched around the wooden handle of his weapon, knowing he is defenseless until gravity releases the stone from its arch. But still, I am not looking at him.

I can read her like an open book. Her mouth is turned down slightly at its corner; I know she is worried. Maybe she senses it just as the crowd and the man before me have. Senses that I don’t have what it takes anymore.

He is confounded, no doubt gaping in disbelief at my back as I turn my body fully away from him to walk in the direction of her throne. I hear his heavy breathing from where he is still crouched, hands wringing agitatedly on the handle of his only hope for survival. The rush of battle is leaving him now. Leaving him hollow and uncertain, the perfect climate for the seeds of doubt which are sprouting within him. He stays down despite his pride in the hopes that catching his breath might steel his nerves once more.

She’s been infatuated with me since the day we first laid eyes on each other in battle. I had felt the same tendrils of fear as the man at my back when I too had realized I was only a pawn in a game I could not win. She had spared me my life that day. She had chained me and dragged me behind her horse over miles of desert until we came upon her kingdom of sand. I’ve fought for her amusement ever since.

He shifts in the sand. I believe he might be standing now, raising his mace above his head once more, preparing to strike me with my guard down. But I’m not really listening anymore. If I’m to die here, with my gaze held by her own, I want my last thoughts to be of something a little happier.

My father and I sailing across an arctic sea. Seals on slabs of floating ice. Nights lying wrapped in bundles of fur before a roaring fire. Feeling safe and feeling loved. Go there now, I command myself. Dream it into existence once again. My people spoke of a life in death, unspoiled by the horrors of this world. I could see my father again.

Kuvira’s eyes flick up over my shoulder and the muscles of her jaw work hard to silence whatever sound she might be wanting to produce. My peace is shattered when she finds my eyes once more. My father is dead, slain at the hands of her empire. My people are gone, buried under mountains of sand so foreign from the soil of their land. They might never find peace in the relentless heat of this wasteland. No, I remind myself, there will be no comfort for me there.

I listen once more and hear his footsteps crashing clumsily through the sand. When I feel grains kicked up and onto my back I turn on my heel and propel myself sword first into the man’s chest. My momentum carries us through as his mace drops to the earth behind us. He thrashes once, twice, and never again.

Looking into the crowd I see the disappointment of the nobles; sentiment against me grows stronger still. I had been fun to watch when I was first thrown kicking and screaming like a wild animal into the fight. I had been beside myself with a desperation so fierce many had labeled it bloodlust. I had been a hero then, a star in their twisted fantasies. But lately, as I grow less and less myself, my fans gleam more excitement from the prospect of my death than the prospect of my victory.

Yet I turn and see the relief clear as day on her face. She will never grow tired of me. I could kill in this arena for many years and still she would watch, enraptured by my body in motion. She turns and gives a curt nod to the advisor by her side. He waves to the guards below and they approach with spears at the ready.

Below the coliseum is another arena of sorts. This room has the same layout as above but is condensed into a single level in which the audience encircles the performers in a much more intimate setting. Not many have followed the precession of guards leading me into the chamber this day. It is no secret that the nobles draw more pleasure from violence than from matters of flesh.

The guards stop at the bottom of the stairs which led us to the circular chamber. The air here is warm and the room flickers with the light from hundreds of candles. The ornate columns positioned in a wide circle about the center of the room serve to support the arena above and separate the audience from the action. Behind the guards, the nobles who still care to observe file into the room and take a seat behind the columns. Kuvira will be the last to descend the stairs and take her place on an identical throne as the one above. I do not wait for her appearance as I move shakily into the center of the chamber.

Although the fight was relatively easy, both mentally and physically, I find myself shaking as I have recently taken to doing. Even killing the man whose body lay festering above is nearly too much for me in my altered state. If I grow any weaker I will no longer have a choice of whether I am to live or die.

Before me the layout of the room remains unchanged. There is a large brass tub filled with cool water. Beside it is a wicker basket with fine, expensive towels inside. And to the left of the washing area is an expansive bed occupied by three nearly naked women anticipating my arrival. They are members of Kuvira’s harem.

As I draw nearer to the tub the women stand languidly and approach me with swaying hips. I do not look at them as I struggle with the leather pads strapped to my forearms. My shaking hands prevent me from removing the armor and to my horror I find tears springing to my eyes in response.

And then Asami is there in front of me, grabbing hold of my shakings hands for a brief moment before sliding her own hands to the buckles of my forearm shields. She lets them drop to the floor and then hooks a finger under my chin to meet my eyes. I close them quickly but doing so only clears my eyes of the tears pooling there and I try to turn away as they slide down my face. She stops me with a soft kiss to my lips.

Opal comes up behind me, her lithe fingers brushing gently against my back as she unties my leather breast plate. I barely notice she’s there. Zhu Li pours a fragrant smelling liquid from a ceramic pitcher into the cool water, stirring carefully with her fingers.

Asami’s hands reach for the laces of my pants and my hips jump backwards of their own accord. Asami pulls back, stilling her hands until I open my eyes to meet hers. She is searching for something, I’m sure.

“Opal, come with me,” Asami says as she proceeds to rid me of the rest of my cloths. “Zhu Li, help Korra with her bath.”

Asami flashes me a small, patient smile before taking Opal’s hand and guiding her back to the bed. Zhu Li wraps an arm around my hips with a playful smile and I throw my arm quickly over her shoulders in a sort of sideways embrace. She knows this part is always a struggle for me and she’s understanding. I allow her to support some of my weight as I climb into the tub although I am not injured. Perhaps this has just become habit from previous fights when I am too hurt to do so on my own.

Usually all three of the selected women from the harem help bathe me. This is something which pleases the nobles greatly, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps women bathing one another is some common held fantasy amongst the wealthy? But today Asami has decided to take another plan of action. She must understand that I am in no state to put on a show. How could I be, when mere minutes ago I was contemplating ending my own misery?

This is tradition. The victor in the arena is brought down to this chamber to be rewarded for his or her victory. For the previous male victors, it had been an exciting prize, and almost enough of an incentive as to draw volunteers. But for me it was always an uncomfortable experience.

To be subjected to the trial of the arena, often beaten and bloodied, and then escorted below to a bed full of scantily clad women seemed like a bizarre turn of events. I’m afraid I’ve made the harem’s lives a little more difficult by being so hard to please. But the thought of being pleasured by a group of slaves for the entertainment of a populace content to watch me suffer is sickening.

Asami had light heartedly berated me after my first victory. Under the intent eye of Kuvira and the nobles, Asami had undone her see-through crimson shift and placed my hand upon her breast. I had pulled it away with haste, unconvinced of her enthusiasm. In a room with three women waiting to please me, she had laughed, and I was worried about propriety.

Asami lays Opal on the bed and then turns her body to me as she removes her same crimson shift. I feel a rush of heat shoot down below the cool surface of the water. After making sure she’s got my attention, Asami turns back to the bed and straddles Opal who blushes faintly at the forwardness of it all.

Asami leans down and whispers into Opal’s ear. I shudder, wondering despite my better judgement what she could have said. It reminds me of a time not so long ago when Asami had stopped me in the halls of Kuvira’s palace. She had looked around cautiously before stepping close to me and whispering in my ear.

“Run away with me,” she had said. “The next time you hold me, I want it to be of your own volition.” Her words were tender and rushed and I opened my mouth to explain that sometimes when I was with her it _was_ of my volition but we were cut off by footsteps coming near. I nodded once and continued on my way.

The lash marks on my back, no longer tender nor healing, burn as a reminder of my first escape attempt. Zhu Li drew the rag carefully over them, trying to soothe my skin’s phantom irritation. I hiss lightly, allowing my eyes to flick finally to where Kuvira is perched.

In the warm candle light, I see Kuvira’s lips twitch upward in satisfaction at the reminder of her authority over me. It would have made me angry once. Now I feel nothing but a grim acceptance of this fate. Until I make the decision to be finished with this life, I must accept her reality.

What am I supposed to do? Repeat this cycle of battle every week until I am so far removed from the woman I once was that I succumb to misery? Try to find myself once more only to have her stolen again by the harshness of my situation? Should I surrender to the whim of my opponent and submit myself to a grim afterlife detached from those who I had once believed would be waiting there for me? I should, but today I had failed in doing so.

I allow my attention to fall back to the bed, where Asami is lifting Opal’s arms above her head and pressing them into the mattress, signaling for her to keep them there. She moves down Opal’s body and settles with her head between Opal’s legs.

Asami pauses for a moment and Opal bucks slightly at the feel of her breath against her center. I groan softly at the warning look Asami sends the girl. Zhu Li chuckles behind me, running the rag over my shoulders and toward my breasts. “She really knows how to get you going,” She mutters under her breath.

It isn’t a secret that Asami and I have a connection. The harem knows it. Though what we are to each other I do not know. If I were a free woman I would have asked her out. But we are confined to whispered conversations in hallways and meaningful glances in this chamber. Perhaps we aren’t anything to each other, but she means so much to me.

I try to make a noncommittal sound but it comes out as a moan when she tweaks my nipple through the cloth. Asami’s head whips over to me at the noise and I can see a flash of jealously in her eyes but she clears it just as quickly with a worried glance in Kuvira’s direction. We need to keep whatever there is between us a secret or we’ll be even more vulnerable.

Those moments, when I am moving to or from training and I pass Asami in the hall; those moments are what I am living for now. Kuvira has stolen my past. She stole the woman I used to be. She stole the peaceful respite of an afterlife promised to me. I will not let her steal this as well. But when I look up at Kuvira again I see the slight downturn of her lips. Her focus is on the scene playing out on the bed but I know her mind is piecing information together.

When Asami’s tongue finally touches Opal’s clit the girl makes a sound somewhere between a cry and a shriek. Opal’s hands fly from their position on the bed to tangle in Asami’s hair. I find myself just as enraptured as the nobles who lean forward in their seats. Asami is covering for me again. Putting on a hell of a show when I don’t have any more left in me.

With a wicked smile that makes my heart’s rhythm falter, Asami lifts her head away from the girl’s mound and brings her fingers to her opening. Zhu Li is now focusing her attention between my own legs, allowing the rag to float free and absentmindedly stroking along the length of my sex while she too watches the show.

Asami sinks her finger into Opal’s heat painfully slowly. The room is silent enough to hear the girl’s drawn out groan of relief and dissatisfaction. I feel myself clench lightly as if I can feel Asami’s finger in me where it belongs. Zhu Li snorts softly as if reading my mind but otherwise refrains from teasing me too harshly.

I can see the way Asami’s finger curls with every inward stroke. She’s pushing forcefully into that spot that drives me wild, basking in the effect it’s having on Opal.

Opal is squirming now. It is almost as if she is trying to get away from the sensation and draw it closer at the same time. “P-please,” she begs finally. She cannot come from the agonizing pleasure of the finger inside her alone. She needs external stimulation to push her over the edge.

“What do you think Korra?” Asami draws the attention of the room to me at such a strategic moment. Asami nods at Zhu Li before continuing, “Should I let her?” And she thrusts with such a force into Opal that the girl’s whole body rocks with the motion. Opal lets out a yell as she clenches helplessly around the finger, unable to peak but being held right at the precipice. At the same moment Zhu Li pinches at my clit roughly and I spasm in the tub. I allow my orgasm to move me uninhibitedly and water sloshes over the sides with the effort. I cry out and am slightly mortified by the attention I’m receiving from prying eyes. Nonetheless I manage to push this emotion aside and simply _feel_. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Asami laughs and lowers her lips back to Opal to finish her off. I miss the climax because my eyes are screwed shut, but I can hear the soft sobs Opal always emits after she’s had a particularly good orgasm. Asami’s fingers are now in Opal’s hair, brushing it down soothingly. She’s staring straight at me when I open my eyes.

“My champion,” Asami finally reminds herself to speak with the propriety expected of her as a member of the royal harem, “Take me.”

When my legs stop spasming I stand with haste. I haven’t felt this alive in such a long time. Zhu Li towels me off quickly and then I am to the bed. Asami rises to her knees to meet me and I grab her ass, lifting her up and then falling forward to lie on top of her. I burry my fingers in her with a great deal of haste and allow her dirty moans to stroke my ego.

I feel more like myself now. A little more confident. A little more sure. I position my hips behind my hand and thrust even harder. My thumb finds her clit and before I can even really register what is happening Asami is clenching around my fingers.

Exhaustion hits me soon after and I allow myself to settle on the bed with my eyes falling closed. I hear the rustling of the nobles standing to take their leave. I am in that realm, halfway between sleep and wake, where every noise is loud and irritating. I feel her lips on my cheek before she pushes herself up and makes to return to her quarters with Opal and Zhu Li. I reach out one last time for her hand. When she brings her face toward mine I whisper in her ear, “Tonight. We leave tonight.”


End file.
